


Oh Say Can You See

by MissMorwen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorwen/pseuds/MissMorwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s just that for someone who usually keeps an eye on everybody, you spend a lot of time not looking at Barnes.”</p>
<p>"He doesn’t like being watched. I was being polite.” It wasn’t a lie. She just didn’t add that she kept her eyes off Barnes, because when he caught her looking at him he closed off, his face turning to an unreadable mask. It felt like a knife in her heart every single time. It was worse than when they’d wiped him and he’d looked at her without recognition, because this time it was by his own choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Captain America: Civil War fucked me up (even more) and I'm reduced to writing fics about pining. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> A huge thank you to [mbuzz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mbuzz) for betaing this.

"I bet you know all the verses of the National Anthem," Sam said, his voice laced with equal parts fondness and ridicule.

"I assure you, I don't," Steve replied, laughter in his voice.

"Well, you should. It should be in your job description."

Natasha was tempted to join in, but she stayed looking out the window, her back to the room.

"Yeah, well." The sofa he and Sam sat in creaked and she didn’t have to turn around to see Steve shrugging.

"Tasha does," said Clint.

Natasha downed the last of her wine and walked over to where Clint sprawled on a two-seater sofa. She leaned over the back of it, putting her arms around him in a loose choke hold. "We talked about this. You don't reveal my spy secrets and I don't kill you in your sleep."

"Come on. You can trust your friends with your secrets." He turned his face to her and she could smell the beer on his breath.

"Yeah, friends," she said and didn't look over at the armchair where Barnes sat.

It had sounded like a great idea when Steve had invited her to dinner a few days ago. He was a good cook and Sam was always entertaining to be around. Even with Barnes as a living reminder of what she no longer had, it could have been a nice evening.

Then Clint had returned from a mission that had ended badly. And he always dealt with that like the puppy dog he looked like when he had turned up at her door – by needing constant reassurance and contact. It was hard enough not reacting to the ghost from her past, but having Clint needing to touch her all the time while the ghost watched? It made Natasha feel like she was cheating on a man who didn’t even remember her.

"I'm gonna need evidence to believe that. Sing the last verse." Sam said, interrupting her and Clint's staring contest.

“And how will you make sure I’m not just making stuff up?” She sat down on the armrest, dangling the empty glass in front of her.

“Uh,” Sam replied and waved his phone at her, text surrounded by images of stars and stripes on the screen.

Steve took the phone from him and began to read, frowning slightly at the screen like it offended him. He clearly hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t know the rest of the verses.

“She can also name all the states and the state capitals.” Clint sounded proud.

“Remind me never to play Trivial Pursuit with you,” Sam said. “Why do you know that stuff?”

Barnes snorted. It was so unexpected that everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged one shoulder, a wry smile on his lips. “Isn’t it obvious? She used to be a Russian spy. Know your enemy an’ all.”

“Ten points to the former Russian assassin,” Clint said, pointing his bottle at Barnes.

Barnes tipped his beer at Clint and shot a tight smile back. Then he saw Natasha looking at him and the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“We’re not even playing and I’m still behind,” Sam sighed.

“And I’m not nearly drunk enough for this. Everybody up for a refill?” she asked and got up.

The kitchen was cool and mercifully empty of puzzling, former assassins. Natasha leaned against the counter, breathing in deeply a couple of times before she went to the fridge.

Barnes hadn’t given any indication that he remembered her or that he saw her as anything other than Steve’s friend. True love’s kiss wouldn’t bring her Soldier back, because this wasn’t a goddamn fairytale. Besides Bucky Barnes had his friend and a good portion of his memories back, the Soldier hadn’t had any of that. No, it was kinder to leave him to figure out how to be a person again. Maybe when he started looking like he slept more than a few hours each night and stopped freezing at unexpected noises she would tell him about their past. Maybe.

Grabbing five beers, Natasha headed for the door, pushing it open with her hip. She startled when a figure moved back just outside it and one of the bottles slipped from her grasp. The wine had her warm and loose, but it didn’t excuse the way heat curled in the pit of her stomach when metal clinked against glass.

Great, she had managed to not think about those fingers all evening. All that effort for nothing.

“Thank you,” she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded.

He nodded once in acknowledgement and handed her the bottle. She took a half-step back and to the side, and moved around him to join the others.

The rest of the evening went uneventfully, even when Clint tried to make up for the two of the group who couldn’t get drunk. He needed an arm around the waist to steady him when they walked down the stairs to the waiting cab.

“Have I told you how great your ass looks in those jeans?” he said when she opened the door of the cab for him.

“Flattery won’t get you into them.”

“I hate to contradict you, but…”

“Believe me when I tell you that your inept flirting did more harm than good.” Natasha closed the door after them and leaned back in the seat. Movement caught her attention and she shifted to get a better look. A half-smoked cigarette landed on the pavement and she followed its path back up to Steve’s apartment where a silhouette pulled a window close. Only one of the apartment’s occupants smelled of smoke, but his knowledge of her past relationship with Clint should matter as little to her as with the rest.

Jesus, this wasn’t high school; she needed to get a grip on herself.

“Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“I can. And I will.”

He chuckled and got comfortable on the seat beside her, leaning his head against her shoulder. “Why is it that every time I’m out of the country something blows up or, you know, people get new roommates?”

“Maybe if you stayed around for longer it wouldn’t keep happening.”

“Steve seems happy, though.”

“He does. It’s nice.”

He remained silent for a while, and then said, “You cleared him first, right?”

She shifted, giving him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “It’s just that for someone who usually keeps an eye on everybody, you spend a lot of time  _ not _ looking at him.”

"He doesn’t like being watched. I was being polite.” It wasn’t a lie. She just didn’t add that she kept her eyes off Barnes, because when he caught her looking at him he closed off, his face turning to an unreadable mask. It felt like a knife in her heart every single time. It was worse than when they’d wiped him and he’d looked at her without recognition, because this time it was by his own choice.

Clint shrugged like he didn’t buy it, but fell silent, letting her brood in silence. Natasha had never told him about how she’d trained with the Winter Soldier or how intimate their relationship had become. It wasn’t his or anyone else’s business. Now she almost wished she had, with him around again it was a heavy burden to carry on her own.


	2. ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude

_ Natasha dreamed. She dreamed about fire and explosions. Blood on her hands and salt on her lips. Hips shoving her into a mattress and hard gasps against the crook of her neck. _


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring, sexual frustration, and Thai food. You know, the superhero way of life.

Natasha was supposed to take Clint to lunch after his debriefing, but the restlessness that had driven her from her bed in the morning had slowly transformed to an urge to hit someone as the day dragged on. Luckily, the endless debriefing had left him in much the same mood and he agreed immediately to her suggestion.

Since they were already in the building, they chose to go to Avengers’ gym. That was probably a mistake, because, of course, Barnes was there, too.

Other than a nod in greeting when his eyes sought her out, she left him to his own devices. The punching bag probably wouldn’t last long if he kept up pounding at it like that, but at least the sparring area was far away from it and she didn’t have to listen to his grunts.

Clint entered while she was beginning her stretches and he nodded at Barnes, too, on his way over to her. When they were both done stretching they began circling each other. Natasha grinned in anticipation. One of the advantages of sparring with Clint was that he knew most of her moves. She couldn’t just be lazy and rely on her usual tricks. If she wanted to win, she had to bring her A-game. And that left no room for distracting thought about blue eyes and mismatched hands.

She struck first, but he was quick to respond. They traded blows and kicks, a few of which landed, most of which were either blocked or dodged. She barely even registered the regular thumps of fists hitting leather after a while.

After a few more rounds it became clear who was nursing a hangover and who wasn’t. Clint began to make mistakes and she decided that enough was enough. When she spotted an opening, Natasha feigned an attack and launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around his neck, and brought him to the ground. Still grinning, she put a foot lightly on his throat. “Surrender?”

Then she noticed the methodical thumps had grown irregular and were coming so fast they almost blended into each other. She turned her head, frowning. Barnes was wet with sweat, hair clinging to his face, his fists moving with almost inhuman speed. She wanted to go to him, smooth the tight grimace with her fingers, brush the hair back from his face, calm his anger by holding on and never letting go.

She let herself become distracted, and it was a mistake. Clint had his hands around her leg and flipped her before she got to regret her lapse in focus. The fall knocked the air from her lungs, but she welcomed the pain. Welcomed his weight as he crawled onto her chest, trapping her arms under his knees.

“Surrender?” he asked, echoing her.

She was about to answer when an abrupt tearing sound interrupted her.

They both turned their heads to see Barnes with his metal fist buried inside the punching bag. Stabilizing it with his free hand, he pulled it out and the guts of the bag with it. Shoulders tense, he turned and walked away, leaving the damaged bag spilling its sand onto the floor.

“Wow,” Clint said.

“Yeah.”

“That was one of those reinforced ones Steve usually uses?”

“Yeah.”

“That man has issues.”

Natasha thumped him in the back with her knee. Not hard enough to dislodge him from her chest, but hard enough to make him look away from Barnes’s retreating shape.

Apparently not taking offence, Clint grinned down at her, before he got up and extended a hand to pull her up with him.

There was still the matter of lunch, but that was quite frankly the last thing on her mind. Luckily Clint was okay with being sent home to water his plants and find something to eat by himself. She, on the other hand, went straight to the shooting range after a quick shower.

A gun in her hands and a target in front of her had Natasha calm and focused in seconds. She didn’t even mind the interruption when her phone beeped. She turned on the screen to find a text from Steve.

‘Bucky’s wearing holes in my floor. Sam’s out of the city. And I have just been called in. Please help?’

‘I’m not babysitting your assassin bf.’

‘Please?’

Natasha gave up and texted back, ‘Fine. Give me another half hour at the range and I’ll go make sure he doesn’t murder anyone.’

It was ironic how she’d gotten her wish in the worst possible way. Back when they’d taken her Soldier away and removed her from his memories, all she’d wanted was to have him back. And now here was here. Except he wasn’t her Soldier, he was a ghost sent to haunt her.

He was so quiet all the time. Pale blue eyes keeping track of everyone. Well, everyone except _her_. He didn’t look at her unless she looked at him first. The dry sense of humor seemed to be the same, but it was far less evident. And the cockiness was almost entirely gone, at least when she was present. Not that any of that was a surprise. He felt guilty for the atrocities he’d committed as the Winter Soldier and she knew from experience how little words of assurance that it wasn’t his fault meant. He’d have to find a way to deal with it on his own.

At least she’d gotten better at handling her reaction to the ghost of Christmas past. Maybe in time Bucky Barnes could even become her friend. Stranger things had happened. She actually agreed with Tony on something the other day.

Natasha sighed and lowered the gun. Maybe one of these days she would also stop obsessing about former lovers who clearly had no feelings for her any more. She turned and was rather proud that she didn’t startle when Barnes was standing there, not four feet behind her.

“Hi,” she said and removed the earmuffs. “I thought we’d meet up at Steve’s place.”

He shrugged, non-verbal as ever. He’d clearly showered since the gym, but no amount of water would remove the dark circles under his eyes.

“Want a turn? I need to pick up some more ammo.” She changed the magazine and held the gun for him grip first.

He hesitated briefly before he stepped forward and took the gun from her, index finger outside trigger guard. Good, his military training still stuck with him, it hadn’t when he’d chased her in DC.

Removing the safety glasses, Natasha handed them to him along with the earmuffs. Important stuff exchanged, she took the Glock 29 she had already emptied, and went to pick up ammo for it and the Glock 19 she had just handed to Barnes.

Coming back with extra ammo and a new pair of earmuffs and glasses, she paused briefly to watch Barnes. From her angle, his stance had his body as one long powerful line from foot to shoulder. He barely moved with each recoil. He’d always been impressive to watch, from afar and up close.

She set up in the booth next to him, placing everything within reach. When he stopped firing, she handed him the extra ammo and went back to her own target practice. Several spent bullets later, she took off the earmuffs and stretched. It probably didn’t say good things about her that shooting a gun made her relax, but there it was. Barnes finished not long after and he also seemed more relaxed, if no less sleep-deprived.

“I’m starving. Want to grab something to eat?” she asked.

“Sure.”

After handing back the equipment to the lady at the reception, they went outside to an empty parking lot.

“So, how’d you get here?” she asked.

“Steve dropped me off. Apparently, I can’t be trusted to be on my own,” said Barnes, his tone dry.

Natasha had ridden there on her motorcycle, which was now parked in the underground VIP members-only parking lot, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Not having an extra helmet wasn’t the problem, the thought of him riding behind her was. Best-case scenario, he’d have his hands on her hips and maybe his thighs brushing against hers. Worst-case scenario, he’d wrap his arms around her, his body flush against hers, and her mind shut down just with the thought of it.

“Then I have to apologize for being such a bad babysitter, because I took the subway here,” she lied. “I’m not far from here, but we can take a taxi or something if you’d prefer Steve’s place.”

“Your place is fine,” he said with an unreadable expression. At least he’d smiled at the babysitter remark.

They stopped by her favorite Thai place on their way to pick up some food. It was of no surprise to her that he already knew the place because Natasha had introduced Steve to it almost a year ago and the rumor that Captain America had become a frequent visitor had more than doubled their income. Barnes did his part to help their income, too. He ordered almost three times as much as her and carried all of it back to her building.

Her place was a mess. Having Clint as a couch goblin turned even the neatest place into a disaster zone. She took one look at it and motioned for Barnes to follow her out onto the fire escape. There was a spot on the roof that offered shelter at two sides and a view over the river at the third. With the neighboring building giving him an extra escape route if needed, she figured that Barnes should at least be able to stay there long enough to eat, if not relax completely.

He carried their food and drinks all the way there, and she hoped his gentlemanly manners extended to not watching her ass as she made it up the fire escape to the roof. She had never thought about how much she swayed her hips when walking up the stairs until she had to do it right in front of his face. Jesus Christ.

Eating took her mind off his thoughts on her ass and it wasn’t until she noticed the difference between her box of kao mok gai and his that she spoke. "You know, after I escaped I was so focused on blending in. Not doing anything to stick out." She tilted the box to let him look at it.

Barnes sat next to her and she couldn't see if he glared at her, but when he replied his tone was sharper than usual. "I didn't choose what you had to blend in, Widow."

"Of course you didn’t, _Barnes_. You picked it because it’s the tastiest kao mok gai in the country. Look at my order then look at yours."

"No pickles," he said.

"Exactly. I had forgotten it came with pickles. Because I have ordered it without so often I don't even have to say so when I place my order. I’m the no-pickles girl. How that’s for blending in?"

He chuckled and they ate in silence for a while.

"Why’d you call me ‘Barnes’?"

"Because you called me ‘Widow’." And because she couldn’t call him Soldier, since that was what she used to call him. As a joke at first, and a term of endearment later.

"My name’s Bucky."

"I get the whole reclaiming your identity, but I'm not gonna call you Bucky. It's just not happening." She forced herself to keep her tone light, make it out as a joke and not a sensitive subject. He had a name now. Something he never had before. Something she’d always wanted for him.

"And can I ask why?"               

"Because you're," Natasha gestured at him, "you. Bucky is a kid’s name or a dog’s."

He smiled a small, wry smile, but didn’t meet her eyes. "I'm not sure if I should feel insulted or flattered by that."

She shrugged and turned away again, giving him his privacy. "Take it however you want to, but I’m not calling you Bucky."

"Natasha is the diminutive of Natalia, yet you insist on not using my nickname."

It was the first time he’d used her name since he was her Soldier and it stripped the last bit of calm from her. He even pronounced it like a Russian. When she remembered to breathe again she made a derisive sound and said, "So, you're saying you want me to call you Jimmy?"

Her phone beeped before he got a chance to answer and he gestured at her to answer it before he began to stack the empty take-out boxes.

It was Clint, asking her where she was and she told him to relax, that she would call him later. Quick as the exchange had been, Barnes had been quicker. All the boxes had been gathered, and he stood, bag in hand.

“Thank you for,” he gestured vaguely at her and the trash. “It almost didn’t feel like having a babysitter.” He seemed relaxed, or at least more relaxed that he had before.

“Well, I sure hope not, because I got stiffed on the payment.” She paused, looking at him. “You don’t have to leave. You’re welcome to stick around. I could tidy the living room, we could go inside.”

“Thank you,” he said again. “But I think my people quota has been filled for today. Probably better to go home and mope. I promise not to murder anyone today.”

Natasha blushed and tried to hide it by laughing. “Fine. Go. I won’t bug you any further.”

He paused after stepping onto the fire escape and looked back at her. “See ya around, _Natalia_ ,” he said and this time it didn’t hurt, because his eyes held that irreverence that had made her fall for him in the first place.

“I hope so, _James_. If you feel like sparring with someone you won’t be able to punch holes through, give me a call.”

His face sort of froze. His expression still friendly, but suddenly stiff. Then he nodded and disappeared from view.

Great. That had clearly been a welcomed suggestion. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know if he sparred with Steve. Sparring with someone he didn’t trust was probably not top priority right now, what with everyone worried about him going on a killing spree.

She really hoped Clint would be able to distract her, because if there was one thing she didn’t need, it was spending another second thinking about how easy it would be to fall for Bucky Barnes, issues and all.


	4. ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude

_ Natasha dreamed. She dreamed about sighting along the scope of what felt like a SVD rifle, with a calm voice whispering instructions in her ear as she found her target. Of the rush of excitement when the target went down. Of bark scratching her back as they celebrated her success afterwards. _

_ In her dream there was no names, no clear images of faces. He only appeared to her in glimpses. Blue eyes sparkling above her, a wolfish grin making her laugh, brown hair soft against her skin. _


	5. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring. So much sparring. Sparring as stand in for therapy (and sex) for messed up people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the lovely [mbuzz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mbuzz). <3

Natasha didn’t hear from James the next day. Or the one after that. Clint moved back to his place and  the apartment felt empty without him, if less messy. She didn’t text James to hear how he was doing, because they hadn’t become friends just from hanging out for a few hours. She had extended  an open invitation, it was up to him to accept it or not. And it wasn’t like she could ask Steve how he  was doing, she’d never told him about her previous relationship with James.

It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

As she pulled on a jacket, thoroughly disgusted with herself, her phone buzzed.

‘Okay. Let’s spar.’ There was no signature and the text came from a number that wasn’t in her contacts, but she knew whom it was from.

‘20 minutes. At the gym,’ she texted back.

Go team Punching Stuff as Therapy.

The gym was busy, but not crowded. James’s discomfort was evident all the same. That wasn’t going to work; she could see him regretting the decision already. Digging through her gym bag, Natasha finally located the lanyard she’d been issued once upon a time.

“Access all areas,” she said and flashed him the card. “Being an Avenger doesn’t pay much, but the benefits almost make up for it.”

He nodded and they went to changed into workout gear. He waited for her outside the women’s changing room when she was done, black pants low on his hips and a tee just a fraction too tight at the shoulders. Yeah, she almost wished her thin hoodie had been a crop top now, just so he’d become as distracted as she would no doubt be.

The nearest available room was big empty space with mirrors lining the entire wall on the left, she guessed was usually used for group workouts. The lack of mats made it less than idea for sparring, but at least the size of the room meant he wouldn’t easily be able to trap her in a corner. Small mercies.

The mirrors made it difficult for Natasha to find a spot to stretch where he wasn’t in her direct line of sight, while she also wasn’t obviously facing a wall nor had her back to him. Why did being polite had to be so difficult? Her life would be so much easier if she didn’t have to worry about not staring at his, admittedly great, ass or him staring at hers.

Body finally loose and warm, she began to wrap her hands and feet. It always felt good doing so, like it was part of a ritual that focused her, like when she prepare her weapons before a mission. Everything became sharper – the smell of the cleaning agent they used on the floor, the soft cotton of her hoodie brushing her skin, and the faint hum of James’s arm as he flexed.

She stood. It didn’t matter if it was her Soldier, Steve’s Bucky or someone in-between, she was itching to get started. Rolling her shoulders, she faced James and took a defensive stance.

His face was a blank, unreadable mask, but he too got into position. He was tense, far from the relaxed man she was used to back when they sparred last, but then Natasha was far from at ease too.

They circled each other, too far apart for her to reach him with a punch and close to being out of reach for his longer arms. Not so for her legs. She spun, her foot aimed at his head. He dodged easily as expected, but the returning punch was far too slow. It missed her by inches. She didn’t even have to do anything to evade it; her path naturally took her outside its reach. She frowned and shifted to lash out with her other leg to swipe his from under him. He sidestepped it like she knew he would, but didn’t use the opportunity to strike at her side, despite how open she’d left it for him.

“Come on,” she said, not bothering to hide her slight impatience.

He frowned, but took a swing at her that came close enough to let her feel the air of it whistling past. That was more like it.

They traded blows, few of which connected, none of his at any rate. It felt more like a boxing match than actual sparring. Her Soldier had used his entire body when sparring, James didn’t. Perhaps it was because she remembered so vividly how sparring used to be, it felt so off to her now. It used to feel like a dance, now it was everything but. His stance was odd, too, keeping his right side to her, with the left turned away. He’d wrapped both hands, and the wrapping on his left hand had to be for her sake. Natasha had seen him punch through walls with that hand. But he wasn’t willing to use it against her, not even as defense. His left arm was his greatest weapon and she got why he wasn’t keen on using it when sparring. Especially against some without his enhanced strength and resilience.

But that didn’t excuse how he hadn’t even managed to hit her once when they’d been sparring for a while now.

He telegraphed his next punch so clearly a newborn kitten could have moved out of the way. So she didn’t. He tried to pull back without being too obvious about it, but she was already moving forward, further into the punch. His fist connected with her jaw and she made sure not to let her face show the slightest bit of hurt.

“See? I didn’t break.”

James frowned at her. “This isn’t a game.”

“No, it isn’t. So, stop playing around.” She punched him to punctuate each word of the last sentence. Hitting him harder with every strike. She didn’t have his upper body strength, but she wasn’t trying to hurt him, she was trying to annoy him.

It worked. He pushed her away hard enough to make her stumble a few steps back.

The distance only made it easier for her and she fell farther back. Up close was where he was the hardest to beat, he was simply too strong. Natasha was all about speed and agility. Using the environment and whatever weapons she could get her hands on.

She pretended to run at him, but just as she got within reach, she dropped to her knees and slid past him, twisting to punch him in the back. He kicked out at her and she actually had to work to avoid being hit.

While James was still turning to face her, she kicked at his ankle and used the distraction to jump to her feet. He still almost managed to connect with a fist to her shoulder before she moved out of reach. She had forgotten how fast he could be.

The next time she kicked at him, he caught her ankle mid-movement. Fingers in a loose grip, but immovable all the same. She twisted and used his hold as leverage to kick his thigh with her other foot, and back-flipped out of his reach when he let go.

It finally felt good sparring with him. He refused to use his left arm for anything but defense, and even rarely then, but he didn’t hold back. She would be sporting new bruises tomorrow, but then so would he.

Natasha was sweating from the strain of keeping up with him and they were both breathing hard, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. It wasn’t like fighting her Soldier, but it was still great and it was a better exercise than she’d had in years outside a battle.

Perhaps that’s why she slipped up. The familiarity of the situation making her miss his next attack because of how unfamiliar it was, until it was too late for her to dodge. James slammed her in the chest so hard she staggered back into the wall. He was there a fraction of a second later, supporting her with a hand on her shoulder as she struggled to breathe.  She grinned up at him, about to make some snide remark when she saw the worry in his face.

“I’m fine,” she wheezed. “Just need. To catch. My breath.” Then she laughed, or rather she tried to. It was hard to laugh while struggling to breathe. “Knew you had it in you.”

His features softened and she pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. Damn the man, if he didn’t put a hand on the wall beside her head and stepped closer. Maybe she wasn’t the only one finding the situation familiar? They weren’t quite touching, but it was a near thing. Heat from the exercise radiated off him and she basked in the warmth.

She didn’t speak, because she didn’t want to interrupt the moment, instead she moved her hand to his jaw, stubble catching on the hand wrap, fingers lightly scraping against it. He leaned into the touch, his eyes filled with a hunger she had thought she would never see again. She licked her lips and he licked his in response. Just as he was lowering his head, eyes closing, the door opened, laughter spilling in.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought this room was booked for Zumba at five,” said the intruder, earning them a spot high on Natasha’s kill list.

“Hold that thought,” she said and ducked under James’s arm to confront the intruder. “You need to find another room, this one is taken.”

But James stepped around her in a wide arch, preventing her from reaching out and stopping him. Someone in the group giggled, but every single of them stepped out of his way as he left the room.

“James, wait,” she called after him. Shooting daggers at the intruders with her eyes.

It was hopeless. He was gone before she had made it past the group. She stopped the first man leaving the men’s changing room, described James to him and asked if he’d seen him. He hadn’t, which meant James had left without picking up his things. Natasha almost ran out of the building, but there was no way she’d catch up with him now and she went to pick up her own things, instead. She stared at her phone, unsure what to do. He’d left without his phone and calling it made no sense. Calling Steve to check up him would raise more questions than she was ready to answer at that point.

That left what exactly? Texting him? Visiting Steve in the hopes that he’d react better in the privacy of his home?

Natasha groaned loudly enough to attract attention and finally unlocked her phone. Typing out, ‘Text me when you get this. Please.’ And pressing send before she could regret it.


	6. ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude

_ Natasha dreamed. She dreamed of a future she didn’t have. Of waking up with her love’s arms around her and staying in bed for as long as she wanted to. Of kissing him in public, without fear of punishment. Of going dancing and doing the things people did with their loved ones. Even dreaming, she knew it was a lie. _


	7. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Natasha does not take no for an answer. Bucky is a stubborn fool (well, they both are, but still). Spoiler alert: SMUT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by mbuzz, because she's awesome. :]

Natasha allowed James two full days to pick up his gym bag and answer her text. When he didn’t, she called him. It went to voicemail after a couple of rings. She tried to call him from a burner phone and that went to voicemail after just one ring. If she had been a person who shared her secrets, she could have called Steve and asked him how James was doing. If she had wings, she could have flown over there and goddammit she needed to do something instead of moping around.

She had given him his chance, hadn’t she? She had texted and called him and he had ignored her. There was no way she could ignore him, not with the feeling of his breath still warm on her skin. If he wasn’t going to react, then she would just have to increase the pressure.

Digging through a stack of unread books, she found one she had borrowed from Steve. It was more than a little manipulative, but she didn’t care.

‘I seem to still have your Hemingway memoir. I’ll deliver it to your door if you pay me in coffee,’ she texted Steve.

‘Well, aren’t you the well-timed blackmailer. I just made some,' he replied only seconds later.

Natasha gathered her things. Almost as an afterthought she got an USB she had in her safe, and stuck it in a pocket before she left. As backup, not as an actual plan A. It was nice to have options, was all.

Plan A was ruined the second she arrived, because James wasn’t there, having just stepped out to go for a run. She would believe that to be a coincidence when she grew wings. It also didn’t come as a surprise that he didn’t return during the several hours she spent on Steve’s couch. That would have been far too easy.

The USB burned a hole in her pocket for the entire time she was there. Steve was a good man, he didn’t deserve to be caught between two fucked up and pigheaded people he called friends. Friends who didn’t tell him why the formerly reclusive ex-assassin friend had suddenly taken up running. Friends who protected themselves instead of using their knowledge to help him search for his childhood friend. And friends who waited for him to leave the room, so they could access his laptop and use the USB. No matter how bad she felt about it, she still did it.

She went home afterwards and set the phone on the table beside her while she worked on a backlog of reports. All she could do now was wait. The program she had installed on Steve’s laptop did most of the work for her. It was a neat little thing. When his computer was switched on, she would get a notification on her phone and the webcam started recording. The feed was then streamed to her server and she could either watch it live or watch the recording afterwards.

Being a spy was a waiting game and something she was usually good at. But then it wasn’t usually this personal to her. She sighed with relief when the phone pinged to announce that Steve had turned on his laptop. Unable to bear the full HD render of her betrayal on her own laptop, she chose to watch the feed on her phone where she could block most of his face with a folded post-it.

It took far too long before something happened, but she finally saw Steve turn his head and a few seconds later James moved past in the background. At least him going for a run hadn’t been a lie, judging from his getup.

Not bothering to pack away the reports, Natasha left for the second time that day and made her way to Steve’s building. When she arrived, she allowed herself a few seconds to breathe and collect herself before she knocked on the door.

“Natasha, hi,” Steve greeted her, clearly surprised that she’s shown up without letting him know first.

She knew he didn’t mind people visiting without warning, because he wasn’t like her, but she still felt bad about it. “Hi, sorry, I need to talk with J—with Bucky.”

A door slammed before either could continue.

“Buck?” Steve called out.

“I’m in the bathroom.” He didn’t yell, but he spoke loudly enough for them to hear it, through the closed door and several yards away.

“Then I’ll wait,” she said to Steve with a smile that felt too tight on her face.

And she did. Sitting in the living room, where she could keep an eye on the bathroom door. Steve tried to ask her what was the matter, but she only gave him non-answers and finally he just sighed and left her, and then the apartment not long after. Natasha stayed, intent on showing James who was the more stubborn of the two.

After over an hour had passed and James had probably used up all the hot water in the building, she went to the door, took one look at the lock and said, “You know this door isn’t going to stop me, right?”

The running water was turned off, but no other sounds escaped. She put her hand flat on the door as if she would be able to feel what was on the other side that way.

“I’m not going away till you come out,” she said, somehow managing to keep her voice calm.

He unlocked the door and she almost changed her mind. He was clean and dressed in jeans and a tee, but the stubble was even longer than when they sparred and the dark rings under his eyes looked like bruises. Maybe she should have left him alone. She’d pushed him enough, hadn’t she? She’d messed him up with her prodding. It hadn’t brought her Soldier back, it had only caused his ghost pain. She was about to back off and go work through her guilt trip with a boxing bag when he looked at her, pale eyes nailing her to the spot.

“What do you want?” His voice was as impersonal as his expression, not revealing any of the obvious fatigue.

She wanted to ask him if he remembered her, remembered their relationship, but what if the answer was no? What if that almost-kiss was simply a man reacting to a pretty woman smiling at him? Instead she said, “You’re avoiding me. Why? I’m not your enemy.”

“I know that, Widow. Your enemies usually taste that signature bite of yours when they’re this close,” he said and eyed her wrists where the cuffs of her jacket hid her ever-present Widow’s Bite stingers.

She arched an eyebrow, about to mention the gun he always had strapped to his lower back and the knife that seemed to be hidden at a new spot every time she saw him. Then she realized what he was doing. She was a goddamn spy; did he really think that redirection would work on her? He really couldn’t remember her at all. “Then why are you hiding? What are you afraid of?” she asked, turning the focus back on him.

“You’d be better off staying away from me.” He shook his head, like he was scolding a disobedient child and not countering her questions with riddles.

“That would be a bit difficult. Steve is my friend, too.”

“Then stop treating me like a mark.”

His words slipped like a knife between ribs, deflating her. Of course he’d figured out she had bugged the place when she’d returned minutes after him. He had always been razor-sharp; it was part of why she had been attracted to him in the first place. Stubborn or not, this wasn’t fair to him. He had made his choice; she had to accept it. She owed the ghost of her Soldier his piece of mind, even if she didn’t have it. Natasha swallowed her pride, amazed that she didn’t choke on it, and said, “Fine.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not safe for you to be around me,” he said and glanced at the two scars he had given her - one on the shoulder and one on the side of her stomach.

The implication froze her mid-breath. “So you remember me? You remember us?”

“I remember. I remember shooting you. And I remember you pleading for me to please stop, please come back to you. But I didn’t. I shot you and left you bleeding on the side of a road.” He leaned against the doorframe, like he didn’t have the strength to keep upright on his own. Strong legs straining under the weight of the years and the blood.

Oh, what a fool she had been. Reading his blank mask as indifference or even dislike. She remembered it, too, had had nightmares about it a long time afterwards. But she had never once blamed him for it. “That wasn’t you. You think you’d be running around free if I had the slightest doubt if that was who you still are?”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”

“No, it doesn’t, but that’s not the point. You didn’t choose to do it. And that’s all that matters.”

“Natalia.” He sounded tired, defeated, but he stayed leaning against the doorframe.

“I know what it’s like to have that much blood on your hands. I’m not letting you add mine to it.”

James smiled at that, a broken smile that did nothing to stop her heart from aching. “It’s not your choice to make. It’s already there.”

No, this wouldn’t do. He still had feeling for her, even if they were mixed up with his feeling of guilt for something that wasn’t even his fault. He’d missed her enough to agree to spar when he clearly hadn’t wanted to fight her. To almost kiss her when they finally had and the dance had been too familiar to resist.

Arguing about guilt would lead nowhere; she had only one weapon that could make it past that thick skull of his. “I love you. I loved you when you were the Winter Soldier and now when you are James Buchanan Barnes. But I will leave if I’m only causing you pain. You don’t ever have to see me again.”

He reached for her, pulling her to him, arms wrapped around her so tightly she could barely breathe. “Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice rough, and buried his face in her hair.

Her heart thudded loudly inside her chest. Only his arms around her kept her from shaking with it. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Her fingers dug into the thick muscles of his back so hard it would have left bruises on anyone else.

An eternity later when he loosened his grip on her, she slipped her arms up between them, cradling his face in her hands. The stubble was so long it was almost soft, bending under her touch. Standing this close she noticed lines around his eyes, lines that hadn’t been there before. But his jaw was the same, as was the soft hair that brushed her hands when he shifted.

“We were such a couple of fools,” she said, her voice trembling, and she couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or cry or both.

Then he kissed her and stopped her from having to decide. He kissed her and made her head spin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. His lips were chapped, rough, but the kiss tentative. When he opened his mouth to her, she could taste cigarettes on his breath, but then his tongue met hers and the unfamiliar taste was forgotten.

There was no need to hurry, no one to tear them apart, but she pressed against him like there was. Needing his solid body against hers more than she needed air. He curled warm fingers around the base of her skull and it sent goose bumps down her back. She grinned against his mouth and bit his bottom lip. Warm air wafted on her skin as he huffed out a soundless laugh in return.

James leaned his forehead against hers and broke the kiss. His eyelashes brushing against her skin as he opened them again. “Oh god, I’ve missed you.”

“Fools,” she repeated. “The biggest.”

“We deserve each other,” he said and grinned.

Natasha could smell cigarettes on his breath, but somehow that was a good thing. Her Soldier hadn’t smoked, hadn’t been allowed to, just like he hadn’t been allowed to have a name. James Buchanan Barnes could wreck his body as he damn well pleased.

She ran her fingers down his chest, following the indents between hard muscles. He shivered and her breath caught. When she looked up at him again the smile was gone and the hunger was back. He looked like he would eat her up in one go if she let him, that only sheer force of will held him back.

“Yes,” she said, her voice barely audible, and stretched to kiss him again.

He met her halfway and this time the kiss was much less tentative. Deep, wet, and demanding. It stole the breath from her lungs.

His hands were restless on her, until they found a way under her jacket and top. Then it was her turn to shiver. Calloused fingers and metal ones slid up her back, reminding her how much she had missed that particular sensation.

She decided to help him. Unzipping her jacket and shrugging it off without releasing his mouth for even a second. She was about to let the jacket become the floor’s problem when she recalled an important detail that his kisses had burned from her. This wasn’t his place, or even hers. This was Steve’s apartment. Steve who also didn’t deserve to come home to their clothes strewn all over the place.

The resulting laughter was neither dignified nor ladylike.

“What do the house rules say about having a girl over?” Natasha asked and glanced down the hallway to the thankfully Steve-less living room.

“I have no idea, but let’s not find out.” He smiled that irreverent smile that sent warm tendrils down to the pit of her stomach and caught her hand, pulling her with him to his room.

James held the door open for her, letting her enter first, giving her time to study it as he closed the door behind them. The room bore little evidence of him living there. It was hardly a surprise. The bed was made military style and all of his belongings were packed away, with not even a book on the nightstand.

Apparently having decided that she was done looking, he stepped up behind her, took the jacket from her and threw it over the back of a chair. Before she could turn to face him, he pushed her hair away and kissed the crook of her neck. Stubble scratched her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. She reached back, weaving her fingers into his hair, grasping it tighter as he kissed and bit his way up her neck.

It left her breathless, but with her back to him reciprocating was difficult and she wanted, needed, to scratch her nails down his back, to taste him, and to wrap herself around him. She twisted in his loose grip, tilting her face up as he reluctantly moved on from her neck to meet her lips. He kissed her with the same hunger as before, hard fingers digging into her. She gasped against his mouth, fisting her hands into the fabric of his shirt. It was in her way, hiding the hard planes of his chest from her, and she let it know her displeasure.

He huffed, a hard laugh swallowed up by her mouth, but helped anyway, pulling the tee over his head in one smooth move. The kiss broken, he caught her hands when the shirt was discarded, kissed her palms, opened the Widow’s Bite bracelets and placed them on the nightstand. When they were done disarming, the bracelets had been joined by his gun and knife as well as her two knives.

They definitely deserved each other.

He removed the rest of her clothes with something that neared reverence, a chaste kiss on the top of her shoulder when her top and bra was discarded. She was unbuckling his belt when he knelt before her, pushing her back to sit on the bed. Now there was a sight that would keep her dreams interesting for the foreseeable future. He stayed there even after he had removed her boots, reaching up to open her jeans and hooking his fingers around them and her panties in order to pull them down. She stood to let him to get them past her hips and it meant that his breath wafted on the top of her thighs when he revealed her to the suddenly chilly air.

Nailed to the spot by the blue of his eyes, Natasha stood there, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder for stability. The metal was just warmer than room temperature and oh so familiar. But instead of helping her step out of the pants, he rose, unfolding like a switchblade knife in front of her. Her jeans were still around her ankles and she felt them shift as he took a half-step closer, but it wasn’t till he pushed her back she realized what he was doing. Unable to find her balance with her ankles locked in place, she fell back with a grin, bouncing as she hit the bed.

It was only fair. She had forced the confrontation; if he needed to control the situation, she wasn’t going to fight him over it.

She stayed on the bed, raising herself on her elbows. Waiting patiently as James first removed her jeans and then his own afterwards, his cock springing free, fully hard and slightly red. Anticipation curling in her stomach, she watched him crawl after her, the mattress dipping under his much heavier body. He stopped when he reached her breasts, lowering his head to lick an already hard nipple. She gasped when his lips closed around it, arching into the touch as sparks of pleasure flowed down to where he sadly had not touched her yet.

As if he read her mind, he slid his hand up the inside of her thighs, rough calluses scratching sensitive skin. But he changed direction at the last second, going down the other thigh instead of applying his fingers were they were so sorely needed. She groaned in frustration and had to clutch at the sheet when he only smiled.

The next time he slid his hand up her thigh, she raised her hips to meet him. Arching her body with one heel digging into the edge of the mattress. Her reward was two fingers parting her, slipping gently on either side of her clit. She was wet already, but again he teased her and removed his hand to slide it down her thigh. Blue eyes studying her reaction intently.

Biting her lip in frustration, Natasha waited patiently for the slow slide of his hand to return to between her thighs. She almost cursed when he pressed against her clit on his third round. Then he slipped two fingers inside her and crooked them, and it felt like it pushed the air from her lungs.

The sound she made was even less dignified and ladylike than her earlier laughter.

James must have liked what he heard, because instead of taking his hand away he wiggled his fingers. When he shifted she almost reached for him to prevent him from removing his hand. But he didn’t move it. Instead he settled beside her, cradling her with his free arm and pressing his thumb against her folds. She was so slick there was almost no friction, only the pressure of his thumb against her clit, leaving her gasping for air.

“I have you,” he said as she moaned into the side of his neck.

She wanted to say something back, something funny, maybe something with barbs, but he ruined it by pulling crooked fingers out of her, the thumb rubbing along her clit.

She was shaking and moaning not long after, falling apart from just his one hand between her legs. He had always been good, but this unwavering focus was new, unexpected. She came far too soon to her liking. Unable to prolong the pleasure with his deft fingers on her, inside her. Gasping for air, digging her fingers into his back for stability.

But it was okay. He had her.

He was smiling down at her when she finally opened her eyes again, looking so proud she had no choice but to grip his head and pull him down into a kiss. He was almost as short of breath as her when she finally released him. Almost, but not quite.

“I need you inside me,” she said, fully aware of what cliché it was.

But it was a cliché because it worked. His breathing stuttered for just a second, then James smiled his wolf grin at her and climbed on top of her. His metal arm bore his weight easily as he used his other hand to guide him to her, wetting the head of his cock on her before he slipped inside.

He filled her up completely. Maybe more than that, because the friction when he finally moved was almost too much. He felt it too. His eyes closed as he pushed inside again and she bit her lip hard to keep from moaning and breaking the spell for him.

His pupils were blown when he looked at her. A narrow ring of blue around the sea of black. He looked like a cat intent on a kill. The analogy was pretty apt, too, because his eyes darted from hers to her mouth when she wetted dry lips, and back again. That was probably why he caught her soundless gasp when he changed the angle of his thrusts and pushed the air from her lungs.

Natasha’s next gasp was more audible, and the one after that even more so. She found his shoulder with her eyes closed, fingers scrambling for flesh to dig into. He shifted to rest on his elbows and found her lips as his hips pushed the air from her. The combination was too much for her and the tight coil in her abdomen released, she came gasping, shuddering.

“James. _James_ ,” she gasped into his mouth and that apparently did it for him.

He pushed so hard into her, the mattress dipped underneath her and she would probably sport fresh bruises on her inner thighs the next day. It was completely worth it.

He didn’t let her feel the full weight of his body on top of hers, instead he slid off her, pulling her close. She snuggled up, tucking her head under his chin, drawing lazy circles on his chest.

“I love you,” he said and laced the fingers of his left hand with the fingers of her right, metal with flesh. “I don’t know why I never said that to you before. But I do. That ‘Love is for children’ was such horseshit.” He laughed. A harsh, derisive sound.

She shifted, turning to look at him, her head supported by her free hand. “Sweetie, I know. Do you really think I would have tolerated your hostile ass the past few months if I didn’t know you once loved me?”

He smiled and it almost looked real. “I’m sorry I was such an idiot.”

“To be fair, we both were. But I’m not sorry I was a bitch, because look where that got us.”

This time his smile looked real and actually happy. “Could you then please remove whatever bug you placed during your last visit? Steve’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“Let’s not tell him then. But speaking off, should we let him know it’s safe to return?”

“Nah, he’s a big boy; he can figure it out on his own.”

Loving Bucky Barnes was far too easy when he talked like that. She grinned and stretched to kiss him. “I hope so. I don’t want to make him homeless,” she said afterwards.

“We should use the time till he returns wisely,” he said and pulled her into another kiss.

The skin around her mouth was sore from before, but it was quickly forgotten. Oh, was he a great kisser. The wolfish grin had returned when he released her and she stroked a finger over his chapped lips. “You should do something about those.”

“Yeah, later,” he said and pushed her hair back, eyeing her throat.

She looked down his long body. And there was the evidence of his short refractory period. Yes, they’d better spend the time wisely. They had a lot of time to make up for.


End file.
